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Sunday, 21 May 1939
At the next lunch there was another guest, Gerald Hamilton, famous as the original Isherwood's Mr. Norris. He and Crowley were old friends. They had lived in the same house in Berlin. Hamilton told me later that they had each been paid some very small sum by British Intelligence for reporting on each other's activities. This was the first time I had met Hamilton, though I had heard about him and knew him by sight. His appearance with another bald head and naked face of quite exceptional ugliness, was as unforgettable as Crowley's. I suppose he was there in the role of consultant con man.
Vodka, food, wine and brandy were as profuse as before. Hamilton paid elaborate compliments to Kathy and her cooking. Crowley brought up the subject of Berlin and Mr. Norris Changes Trains. He assured me that 'the real Mr. Norris, my dear Mr. Richardson, is a far more vicious person. Now, if I were a real magician, I would be able to produce him for you at this table, would I not?' Hamilton muttered nervously. I did not let on that I knew.
We went on drinking brandy until late in the afternoon. Again I was asked to write a note of apology, and Baphomet and the writing-block were produced. Again I pleaded intoxication. I saw Hamilton shaking his head. 'But next time, Mr. Crowley', I said, 'you must have lunch with me.'
From Fits and Starts by Maurice Richardson, Michael Joseph Limited, London, 1979. |